


Dreaming of the Free World

by Starkurt



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7439001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkurt/pseuds/Starkurt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Karofsky needed advice. His professor was there to give it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming of the Free World

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a Kurtofsky Bang on Tumblr in 2015, for mollyannice.

Dave was flying.

Not the typical, Superman-esque flying either. He was upright, more drifting through the air than anything else. And despite his obvious speed, there was nothing more than a light breeze brushing past him.

Down below was a vast series of fields, dotted with barns and lines of crops. In the distance, Dave could make out a town, which spilled over into the farmlands. It was just outside of Lima; he knew this area well. Behind him was Spencerville, and if he stopped just before his hometown’s edge, he could stop at Michael’s unusually extravagant home, who, being a close family friend, would not be surprised to see him.

Dave didn’t want to stop, though. This was the best he’d felt in a long time. It wasn’t just the feeling of the cool air on his skin, or the sensation of weightlessness. It was how free he felt. Like all of his problems had been left wherever he’d first life the ground. All of his stress has gone, all of his worries were meaningless. Looking down as the ground whizzed beneath him, he finally felt whole, like that letting go and flying meant he was finally the person he always wanted to be. It was like--

“David?”

The world collapsed around him in an instant as Dave was jolted awake, his wrist smacking the corner of his desk, a sharp sting radiating up his arm. The source of the interruption, his professor, jumped back, nearly tumbling over a neighboring desk.

“Shit,” Dave hissed, shaking the pain away in his arm as he attempted to blink away the remains of sleep hanging on his eyelids. “I’m sorry, sir. I- How long have I been out?” His eyes adjusting to the florescent light of the hall that had earlier been filled with his classmates, Dave could see his professor, Mr. Hummel, righting himself, pressing out the invisible creases on his dress shirt awkwardly. 

“About twenty minutes,” he said, much softer than Dave was expecting, especially since passing out during a lecture was such a horrendous mistake. He’d only fallen asleep in one other class since starting college, which he’d received a stern lecture about from his English teacher about healthy life habits and the dangers of drinking (which Dave couldn’t blame her for-- if anything was to blame for a college student’s lethargy, it was likely a hangover).

As Dave rubbed his eyes, he began fumbling to collect his supplies. Retrieving his pen from the floor, Dave returned upright, practically slamming his notebook closed in haste. When he reached for his bag, however, a hand rest on his arm, causing him to freeze. Looking up, Dave caught Mr. Hummel’s eyes, which were visibly clouded with worry.

“Are you doing okay, David?” the man asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. This wasn’t a surprise to Dave; Mr. Hummel was known to be one of everyone’s favourite teachers here at OSU, despite how intense his sociology course could get. If it wasn’t for his early admission, Dave wasn’t sure he would even been able to take the course, judging on how many people were often left disappointed that the class was full. It certainly didn’t help that he was the youngest and quite possibly the most attractive professor on campus. Dave would often overhear girls comment on it, disappointed that Mr. Hummel was openly gay.

Dave had no qualms with this-- he’d accepted his homosexuality junior year of high school. Of course, this didn’t transfer to him being out and proud, which in fact, was what was making Dave so obviously not-okay that his professors could easily pick up on it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be out. He was comfortable with who he was. It was everyone else that wasn’t, which was keeping him shoved so far in the closet that he’d spent four years of high school trying to convince his friends that he absolutely thought Ms. Elias was smoking hot. It was infuriating.

In college, he’d found people were more accepting. In an institute as large as Ohio State, people from across the country were in attendance, leading to a much more diverse pot of students than his country-born Lima peers. Still, the fact that he was in Ohio remained, and he was forced to keep his sexuality under wraps in fear of being kicked (figuratively and literally) off of the football team. The world may have come a long way, but even Dave knew that being the only openly gay player on a team of a hundred straight guys that you showered and changed with was bound to cause problems.

So here he was: conflicted, irritated, exhausted, and hormonal. And as comforting as his elder’s concern was, the last thing he needed was to be alone with his runway model of a teacher.

Shrugging off the man’s hand, Dave forced a weak grin. “Yeah. Just a little tired I guess,” he lied, shoving his supplies into his book bag. “Just a little tired from practice.” As he moved to stand up, Mr. Hummel backed up enough to give him space, but not enough to allow Dave out. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but the air hung heavy between them, and he could see the man was hesitant.

After an awkward moment, Mr. Hummel quietly apologized, side-stepping to allow Dave to exit the row. Dave gave another fake smile as he stepped away, relieved that he’d managed to avoid a lecture or sudden heart-to-heart.

Unfortunately, the hand returned to his forearm, and he turned back, his skin prickling. The other man suddenly retracted his arm as if he were burned, which caused Dave to flinch, wondering if his professor had caught something in his eyes. They had a habit of giving Dave away.

Mr. Hummel slowly dropped his hand to his side, and Dave watched as something flashed in his eyes. The look made Dave uneasy.

“Sorry. Um,” his teacher stammered, though held Dave’s eyes. “I know I’m younger than your other teachers, but I’m still your teacher, nonetheless. And if you ever need to talk about anything, my office door is always open.”

Silence hung between them as Dave let the words soak in. He and his peers had only been in the class for two months, yet it was obvious that Mr. Hummel truly cared for them all; where other teachers stumbled on names or even avoided them entirely, the sociology teacher had only fumbled once, and it was with the insanely identical twins in his class earlier that semester.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Dave gave a hesitant, confused nod, to which Mr. Hummel curtly reciprocated.

Dave knew his professor watched him leave-- he still felt his gaze burning on his back later that night.

* * *

“Bear!”

Dave was torn from his flight yet again, though thankfully, this time he was already conscious. Looking up from where he had been staring blankly at the open textbook on his lap, he caught the eyes of a very irritated best friend.

The girl rolled her eyes, lowering her hand from where it had snapped in front of Dave’s face. She sat directly across from him on his dorm’s bed, her legs crossed so that her already incredibly short skirt was showing even more than usual. “Oh good. I was afraid what’s left of your already ridiculously low brain cell count after that last game where you neanderthals were literally curb-stomped had finally popped,” she quipped, a smirk playing on her full lips. “I might tolerate you now, but if you become a vegetable, no más.”

Giving a huff of passive annoyance, Dave returned to his note taking, only to immediately be interrupted by a manicured hand slapping down on his paper.

“What, Santana?” he said, forcing the waning annoyance out of his tone. He let his drop, lightly clipping her fingers before rolling into the seam of the textbook. Dave glanced up again, and was met with a studying look.

Santana’s eyes narrowed. “You know you can’t hide crap from me, Bear. Why are you suddenly the space queen?”  
Dave’s face hardened, knowing he was trapped. It’d been days since his nap in sociology, and after the girl’s initial teasing of him wore off, he had known she picked up on his sudden change of presence. As Dave remained firmly sat in his closet, desperate to break it down, Santana had been abandoning him at parties to sneak off with that night’s choice sorority girl, or introducing him to whatever bicurious bookworm she’d picked up at the library.

It was much easier for her; society had a twisted method where lesbians were fine because, to the straight guy, they were hot. She could get away with making out with another girl in front of people, when if he so much as flirted with another guy, he would be labeled as a pervert. Any gay experiences he had were in dark bar corners or a stranger’s bed.

It wasn’t always like this, though. The two of them had befriended each other back in high school during junior year, when they were both locked much further into themselves than they were now. Santana, slightly more accepting of herself than him at the time, easily picked up on his latent sexual crisis (then again, Dave hadn’t been the most conspicuous checking others out, so his doubt for “gaydar” remains). Both having been complete assholes in need of change, they connected, and even ended up winning junior prom court because of their “secret beard” power couple status-- which was Santana’s plan initially, but she later admitted that she genuinely needed someone who understood. Dave confessed the same, to which he received a loving “that’s so gay” in response.

Closing his textbook, Dave ran a hand through his short curls. “I’m just sick of hiding, you know?” he started, pausing to collect his thoughts. “I keep having this dream where I’m flying, and I feel so free during it. I don’t have to worry about anything. It’s like, I can be whoever I want to be because nobody else really matters then. Nobody’s going to judge me up there, and if they do I can just fly away.”

Santana bit her lip, nodding. “That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Dave rolled his eyes, letting himself fall back, his cheap bed shaking as he hit it. “I know,” he answered, pressing his palms against his eyes. “It just sucks. I want to be normal. I want to date and flirt, and just be myself without losing everything because of it. It would be easy if I didn’t have to worry about the team kicking me off for whatever reason they’d try and make up to condone it.”

The bed shook as his friend shifted. Dave let out an annoyed groan as the girl climbed on top of him, her legs on either side of his waist, though his irritation faded as she began rubbing her hands across his chest. Letting his hands drop from his face, he blinked up at Santana, whose face was unusually sincere.

“Look,” she began, her eyes on her hands. “There’s a reason we’re best friends-- we’re both total hardasses. I wouldn’t keep you around if I thought you were a total loser.”

“Comforting,” Dave interrupted, which earned him a small pinch.

“I want you to be happy,” Santana continued, her face remaining soft. “I don’t think you should be letting a couple of bigoted, fatass hicks keep you from dating whoever can tolerate you long enough to get you laid. And I know playing football is something you enjoy, but if you’re putting aside your own well being for this one thing that even you don’t want to last past college, it’s really not worth it.” Her hands stalled, and her eyes finally landed on his, causing Dave to glance away.

Seconds passed in silence, which drew a sigh from Santana. 

“Okay,” she said, slipping back off of his lap. The loss of contact pulled Dave from his momentary haze, and his eyes returned to his friend as she tugged on her skirt hem. “Here’s my advice: since you’re obviously not eager to get called out for shower peeping over some meaningless flirting, find someone you trust. Get yourself some hot ass, and make him your boyfriend. It doesn’t have to be your future house-husband, just someone who won’t completely leave you to rot if things get hairy.”

As Santana moved off the bed, she shot Dave one last smile before wandering over to his mini-fridge. He watched her back as she rifled through, taking her words to heart. He was gay, and comfortable with it, that much was obvious. And despite his optimistic outlook, her underlying point held a truth: he wasn’t sure how he would react if suddenly his entire world became more of a living hell than it was when he was in the closet. And as much as he knew she would have his back (and likely threaten to beat up anyone who gave him trouble), it couldn’t hurt to find someone else who could actually care for him in a way she couldn’t. Even someone that could understand.

A thought dragged in the back of his mind as the girl suddenly turned back to him, mouth already half-full of whatever Chinese food his roommate had mistakenly left unmarked. “Just do me a favour,” she mumbled, pointing the plastic fork at him. “Don’t date that creepy gay kid down the hall-- the one with the stupid bowties. He’s got a serious Ted Bundy vibe.”

“What about Mr. Hummel?” Dave blurted out before he could stop himself. From across the room, Santana sputtered, coughing as she struggled to set the styrofoam box on his desk. 

Dave immediately blushed, knowing full well that he should have actually mentioned his train of thought. “Not to date! Jesus. Just to talk to,” he quickly explained, watching as Santana recovered. “He was talking to me the other day after I fell asleep during class. He noticed something was up, and told me he could come to him if I ever needed to talk about anything. I figure in this case, it wouldn’t be bad to have an _adult_ adult to talk to about this.”

He was met with wide eyes, and a growing smirk. 

“I’m not sleeping with my professor,” Dave deadpanned, grabbing his pen to throw at her. She deflected it, and it went sailing across the room, likely never to be found again.

Raising her hands in defense, she turned away, though not before Dave could catch her shit-eating grin. “Your words, not mine.”

* * *

Being a Monday class, Dave didn’t have sociology again until the following week, leaving him to suffer with Santana’s jokes for three days before he even had a chance to talk to his professor.

“Remember,” Mr. Hummel called as his students made their way out of the class hall. “Check your email! I’ve sent out the study guide to all of you that I like. Those who didn’t receive it, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to try harder!” 

A short chorus of laughs echoed through the emptying room, and Dave couldn’t help but grin to himself. His nerves had him on edge the entire class, but his professor’s sense of humour helped remind him that he had nothing to worry about. Tossing his bag over his shoulder, Dave made his way down the shallow steps of the room towards Mr. Hummel, who was collecting his own books and papers. The man looked up as Dave approached, clearly about to nod Dave off before realizing he was staying to talk. 

“Yes?” his professor asked, face curious.

Dave swallowed his returning nerves, taking a quick glance at the hall’s door as it swung to a close. A sense of familiarity suddenly hit him, and Dave was immediately blindsided with memories of meeting Santana in abandoned classrooms to talk during school hours.

Licking his lips, he sighed, and forced himself to give a small smile. “Sorry, sir. I was just wondering if I could talk to you?” he asked. “If not now, then some other time.”

Mr. Hummel waved him off quickly. “Oh, no! We can talk now. I have nowhere to be” The man gave his desk one last tidying before moving around it to stand in front of Dave, giving him a questioning look. Dave hadn’t ever actually stood next to his professor since starting the class, and was surprised at how tall the man actually was. 

Dave hesitated for a moment, attempting to collect the words he’d prepared days ago. He watched as the other’s face slowly morphed into that of concern from the silence. Quickly, Dave cleared his head from where his thoughts had been hanging.

“I’m gay,” he started. Immediately, Dave watched as a range of responses flashed through his professor’s eyes. A prickle of annoyance nagged on him when the man had settled on “surprised”, but he brushed it off, figuring the sudden personal turn was more likely the cause than his obvious not-obvious gay persona.

“I’m not in denial, or anything,” Dave continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. “But I’m not really out to anyone. My parents, and a few close friends.”

Another pause, this time to hopefully induce a physical reaction from his elder. After a few seconds, Mr. Hummel’s lips pursed, and he carefully backed up to sit on the edge of his desk. Dave watched silently, but let out a pleased breath when his teacher smiled delicately up at him. 

His professor’s shoulders slumped comfortably, yet still held an air of confidence. “I’m honoured that you trust me with that, David,” he said, his tone cool and accepting. Dave couldn’t help but retain his smile.

“Yeah, of course. Like I said, I’ve accepted it,” Dave said, moving back enough so that he could gently lean back against one of the front row desks. “I just don’t know what to do about it here.”

“What do you mean?”

Dave sucked on his cheek, the other man waiting patiently for him to explain. So Dave did. He told his professor about the team, and their obvious bigoted air. He told them about how he hadn’t told more than ten people who he didn’t hook up with that he was gay, in fear of it getting out. He explained that he didn’t care so much about his reputation, but rather the consequences he’d receive from it dropping-- namely, football. He explained that he wasn’t sure he even wanted to do football professionally, but the thought of losing that chance completely wasn’t something he wanted to risk. And then he told him about how he really didn’t want to care about football if it meant he had to be alone or live in secret the rest of his young adult life.

Dave wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the two had ended up seated in the front row at some point. As he finished, his professor hesitated, looking lost in thought before sitting up, slipping his arms from where they had been crossed on the small desk.

“Well,” his teacher started, his voice gentle. Dave raised a brow at that, picking up that the tone was much more personal and peer-sounding than his usual professional voice. Mr. Hummel didn’t seem to notice, and continued, making Dave wonder if it was intentional. “I can’t say I understand completely. I had my fair share of being in the closet, and while our situations are very similar, you do have this difficult sport aspect.”

Mr. Hummel sat up, his eyes bright. “My advice? Embrace this. Maybe not immediately, but you’re strong, David. And the world is changing to allow people like us the natural right we deserve as humans. Who is that football player that was the first openly gay player?”

“Michael Sam?” Dave asked, uneasy. “He was drafted, but he was cut from the Rams and the Cowboys before the season started.”

The other man slapped his hands down on the table, the sudden movement enough to cause Dave to jump. “But he was picked, wasn’t he?” Mr. Hummel said, and held out his palms. “Even ten years ago, that was unheard of. This was one small step in a huge movement, and we were both unfortunate enough to have to be the ones to drive it on.”

Dave’s eyes were lowered, focused on a line in the other’s palm. His professor had a point, and that alone let him with some understanding.

“So what you’re saying...” Dave mused, piecing together their conversation into a final conclusion. “Is that I could be a step? Or like, something important?” He raised his eyes, and was taken aback to see his professor’s face laced with admiration for him. The man truly did care, and the thought (and the eye contact) made him blush.

Mr. Hummel nodded slowly, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Like I said, David, you’re a very strong young man. I know it sounds odd coming from someone close in age, but in my few years of teaching, I’ve seen few like you. You have the power to make a difference, and the strength and heart to do so with ease.”

Flushing further, Dave was suddenly very distracted with those smile lines, which only drew his attention to the man’s smile, and then back up to his eyes. Something stirred somewhere inside him, though he couldn’t pinpoint what. He held the man’s gaze, which only worsened his heated cheeks. Eventually, he forced himself to nod, and pushed away his confusing, jumbled emotions.

After a few moments, his professor’s gaze suddenly dropped, and was immediately directed to the watch on his wrist. “Oh, wow,” he said, amused. “I know I didn’t have anywhere to be, but I might have to start charging you for twenty minute sessions.”

Dave glanced over his shoulder at a nearby clock hanging on the wall, only to confirm the time they’d spent talking since class had ended. Turning back, he gave a sheepish shrug. “Worth it,” he joked.

The other man’s cheeks went pink, and he muttered something of an agreement. The nagging feeling in Dave swelled, leaving him confused as his professor slipped away from the desk he’d been sitting in. Frozen, Dave sat in confusion for a moment more before following suit, pulling his bag over his shoulder.

“Thank you, by the way,” he said, watching as his instructor mindlessly fumbled with a cuff button. “You’re a really great teacher. I hope you know that.”

Mr. Hummel laughed softly. “I know. I have a mug for it,” he smiled, giving Dave a wink before turning back to his own desk. He gestured in the direction of the door, giving it a limp wave. “Go on. I have all of your horrendous papers to grade.”

Dave chuckled back, and moved to head out the door. Once at it, though, he hesitated, casting one last glance over his shoulder at his teacher, only to catch the man’s eyes staring right back. Immediately, his professor’s gaze dropped back to his desk, leaving Dave an awkward split of uplifted and confused.

* * *

Santana dropped a package of Oreos into the basket around Dave’s arm. “You two are absolutely going to bang,” she said flatly, returning to the shelves of cookies. The small basket already hang heavy with their usual Monday night Rite-Aid run necessities, and was only worsening as the girl continued to dunk things into it.

Dave gave a huff, slipping the basket handles off of his arm and into his hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

His friend raised her eyebrows, raising a hand to her chest. “Me?” she asked mockingly, her tone sickly sweet for just a moment before she let out a laugh. “Admit it, boo. You felt a little somethin-somethin during your super lame heart to heart. I can practically smell the pheromones you two exchanged. It’s gross.”

Tapping her with the basket, Dave pressed his friend down the aisle, receiving a glare in response. “Can we not talk about this here?” he said, annoyed. It was unlikely the two of them would run into anyone, but with someone as loud as her, it wasn’t uncommon passersby would shoot them looks of confusion and concern.

Unfortunately for Dave, Santana was in too good of a mood. 

“Talk about what? Your love for the hottest, gayest teacher in all of Ohio?” she said, her voice radiating against the cheap linoleum. Dave’s eyes went wide. “I can’t blame you; I’m fairly sure if I closed my eyes, I could get something stirring with his soft lady lips whispering angelic-sounding sweet nothings against my neck. I also bet his hands are actually made of the sugary, pastey dough he so very much resembles. I’m sure you’ll love those wrapped around your--”

Dave hissed, reaching his free hand out to muffle her mouth. He felt the hanging word rumble against his palm, quickly replaced with a bout of laughter. Tearing his hand away, he continued down the aisle, leaving her to trail behind him. He was annoyed at how quickly she caught up, her heels clacking beside him.

“This is college. Everyone sleeps with their professors,” she said, her voice notably lowered. Dave simply rolled his eyes, and kept his pace towards the checkout counters as she continued. “In your case, this is twice as awesome. Pass the class, and have some drag queen poster child to get all your gay wisdom from.”

“Not all effeminate men are drag queens, first of all,” Dave retorted, slipping into the shortest line available. Lowering his voice, he began slipping the contents of their basket onto the conveyor. “And second, he’s just giving me advice. Good advice, too.”

Santana stood beside him, her arms crossed as she watched him load the belt. Dave turned to her, expecting an answer, but she simply shrugged. Giving an annoyed huff, Dave finally emptied their basket, and handed it back to her to place alongside the counter. 

The conversation dropped, Santana’s words hung heavy in his head, no matter how much he attempted to lock them away. He couldn’t deny that he’d caught something between the two of them, and it was apparent that even through his bland storytelling and his friend’s wild imagination, she could sense it too. The possibility of whatever it was Dave had felt being real only brought back the tugging sensation he’d had that afternoon, leaving his brain a fumbling mess of thoughts.

As the two of them stepped up towards the cashier, and were greeted with a fake smile, Dave knew the only way to settle his mind was to speak to Mr. Hummel again, and determine what it was that had occurred between them.

* * *

Knowing his professor was not at school on either Tuesday or Wednesday, Dave was forced to wait until Thursday morning to approach him.

“What’re you doing?” a tired voice had said earlier, a few minutes after Dave’s alarm went off two hours before either of theirs normally do. Cursing inwardly, Dave slipped on his second sneaker, quickly tying it in a rush to leave his half-asleep roommate. 

“Sorry, Sam,” he apologized, rising from where he sat on the corner of his bed. “Forgot to tell you, I have to go get new cleats.” He shook his head at his lie, which was hidden in the darkness of the room. Thankfully, his roommate wasn’t the brightest, and no doubt his sleep-heavy mind clouded his thoughts, so Dave received a mumbled response, and faintly made out the boy turning back over to face the wall.

Quietly, he slipped out of the room, the door clicking closed behind him. It wasn’t incredibly early, but the kids who had morning classes were already in them, and most others were still sleeping. He could hear music playing from the showers down the hall, and the faint chatter from both the commons and various dorms. 

Avoiding most everyone, save a confused teammate who knew Dave preferred to sleep in, he made his way through the dorm building, and out into the brisk fall morning air. He shoved his hands in his jacket’s pockets, and began walking across campus, heading towards the humanities building. 

Once inside, Dave walked down the hall, Mr. Hummel’s room being at the very end, and around the corner. At the door, he looked at his watch, realizing that he still had a couple minutes until the class usually dismissed, assuming it didn’t run late. Suddenly feeling awkward, Dave backed into the wall next to the door, letting his head roll back enough to rest.

He wasn’t alone for long, however, as someone rounded the corner. Dave had to do a double take, nearly not recognizing the figure in his extremely casual attire, a Cincinnati Bengals cap pulled over his face. The man caught eyes with him, looking surprised that anyone was there, yet quickly gave him a lopsided smile.

“Hey!” Finn Hudson, former Ohio State legend and current Bengals starting quarterback said. To him. Dave never thought he would be one to be starstruck, but all of that was instantly tossed out the window as his heart seemingly skipped a beat. Dave stood silent, stunned, as Finn continued.

“Are you in this class?” the man asked him, nodding to the door as his hands slipped into the pockets of his jacket.

Dave’s mind was blank. What class? Where was he? He felt his cheeks warm as he fumbled for any coherent response. “No,” he answered finally, shaking his head. “I mean, I am. Just not now. I’m waiting to talk to Mr. Hummel.”

Finn grinned at that, seeming unusually pleased at the answer. “Me too,” he replied, moving to stand beside Dave. Dave quirked an eyebrow. Why would the quarterback be wanting to talk to his professor?

Suddenly, a thought flashed in his mind, which only worsened his blush.

They were dating.

Not only did that mean Dave was standing next to one of his idols, but he was also standing next to a closeted boyfriend to his teacher. Everything suddenly clicked. That must have been why his teacher was so adamant about him “changing the world”; he’s struggling with his own significant other going through the same issues Dave was. 

The door opened as students began filing out, but it went generally unnoticed as he was lost in his thought. Finn Hudson was gay, and dating his sociology teacher. Which meant that his professor was likely in love. Which meant that there was no possible way that there could be anything between them, which meant that Dave had no reason to be waiting for him. The whole conversation he had with Santana was invalidated, and the days he’d spent psyching himself up to the possibility of her being even minutely right was wasted. A twinge of jealousy prickled his skin.

A single, final student exited in front of him, which triggered Finn to push off from where he’d been nonchalantly leaning beside him. The quarterback stepped in front of him, catching the heavy door before it had the chance to close, and held it open for Dave.

Just as Dave was about to apologize, and essentially make a run for it, he heard a short shout from inside. Finn peeked in, still offering the door to Dave, who felt as if his feet were glued to the floor. The other man glanced at him again, a grin stretching across his face, only to fade slightly as he shot Dave a confused look.

Almost subconsciously, Dave found his feet carrying him inside, yet his heart was screaming for him to bolt out of there. He stepped aside, and raised his eyes to his professor, who gave him a short, startled look before glancing past him. 

“You keeping kids for detention now, little bro?” Finn said cheerfully as he stepped through the classroom’s door.

Wait.

Immediately, Mr. Hummel was stepping forward, now completely ignoring Dave as he moved to wrap his arms around the taller man in a swift hug. “You know me,” he laughed, pulling away. “I need my slaves.”

Finn chuckled, his hands lingering on the other’s arms. After a moment, Mr. Hummel turned back to Dave, who stood completely shell shocked. What is happening? he thought, his mind racing.

“David,” his professor said, his voice light and airy. “This is my brother, Finn. Finn, one of my students, David Karofsky.”

Finn turned to him as well, holding out a hand. Dave instinctively shook it, much lighter as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. They were related?

“It’s an honour,” Dave finally spat out, slipping his hand from the football player’s. He looked between the both of them, a sense of relief flowing through him. It was instantly replaced with confusion, however not for them, but himself. Why was he so pleased they were just brothers?

As Dave stewed in his thoughts, Finn had turned back to his brother. “I have to go talk to Coach Meyer, but I thought I’d surprise you beforehand,” the man said, adjusting his cap. “Are you busy later? I thought we could go get lunch somewhere.”

“As long as it’s not that burger joint from last time, I’d love to,” his professor said. Finn ended up looking disappointed, and began bickering about how it wasn’t all that bad, or something. Dave’s ears seemed to turn off as he watched the two of them. They spoke back and forth for another minute, his professor looking more animated than he’d seen him. The man seemed to have three different personas, and in the span of a few days, Dave had been one to witness them all. He watched, curious as they shot back and forth. Looking at them now, their mannerisms screamed with similarities, and it was made very obvious to him that they were close, despite their conflicting lives. He couldn’t help but smile.

Suddenly, his teacher turned to look at him, almost surprised to see he was still there. Dave straightened up, noticing the conversation had come to an end. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, David. I forgot you were here,” he confirmed, which Dave responded to with a shrug. His professor turned back to his brother. “I will text you later, Finn.”

The football player gave a nod, and then one last crooked grin to Dave, who was immediately sent into another blushing fit. “Nice to meet you, dude.”

The two watched the taller man leave, turning back to each other as the door clicked to a close.

His professor started first, cocking his head. “What can I help you with?”

Dave stalled, his mind still recovering from his whirring thoughts. What the hell was he supposed to say? He know he had the conversation planned earlier, but nothing was coming to mind other than that odd feeling of relief that still hung in his chest.

“I, uh,” he stammered, glancing back at the door. “You guys are really brothers?”

His professor laughed, drawing his attention back. “Step-brothers since high school. I’m surprised he waited outside this time. Usually he walks right in, and I have to deal with the pandemonium that ensues.”

Dave let out a laugh at that, wondering how the rest of his team would react when he inevitably told them that he’d just been standing beside him.

“I can imagine,” he said, biting his lip in amusement. He saw Mr. Hummel’s eyes cast downwards for a split second before returning to his eyes.

“I’ll be sure to let him know you’re an admirer.”

“What?” Dave’s eyes went wide, feeling his blush creep up again. 

His teacher laughed again. “I’m kidding. But I’m both a teacher and a brother, so don’t think I missed your obvious flustering,” he teased, his eyes squinting playfully. Dave dropped his eyes to his feet in embarrassment.

“Anyway,” his professor continued, crossing his arms. His tone changed again, settling to his usual professionalism. Dave was honestly amazed how quickly he seemed to switch through personas, and mindlessly wondered if his teacher had ever been into acting. “Again, what can I do for you?”

Dave dared to return eye contact, which was an instant mistake. His cheeks still burned with shame, and as his brain returned to functioning normally, he remembered why he was here in the first place. Everything was suddenly vastly different than he’d planned, and he had no idea how to casually make a conversation out of anything. His heart began to race, which only lead the voice in his head telling him to drop everything and leave to become louder.

Concern broke on his professor’s face, and he took a step closer to Dave, furthering his nerves. “David?” the man asked, his brows pinched in worry. 

Santana’s words echoed through his head, and he worked to push them away, yet they kept fighting back. What was wrong with him? Was he now seriously crushing on his teacher because of her influence?

His brows furrowed as his mouth fumbled for words. His teacher froze in front of him, his eyes tracing Dave’s face, likely for any sign of an answer. The nagging feeling resting in his gut fluttered upwards, and his heart was suddenly edging to burst from his chest. 

As Mr. Hummel’s eyes returned to his, his mouth parted open, as if he was about to speak again, but Dave never found out. Before he could stop himself, Dave had surged forward, his lips all but smashing against his teacher’s. 

The other man’s breathing hitched as Dave pressed their lips together. Every nerve ending burned in warning, his entire body feeling like it was engulfed in flames. The kiss lasted two seconds at most, and as Dave pulled away, he was overcome with a wave of nausea. 

His professor’s face was beet red, his lips parted and his eyes dilated, which he only imagined is what he looked like as well. However, the blood quickly drained from his face as his embarrassment faded to sheer realization of what he’d just done.

Feeling like he was about to vomit, Dave turned for the door, all but sprinting out. Behind him, his teacher called out, but Dave was already well on his way out the door.

* * *

Dave avoided everyone the rest of the day. He called in sick for practice, despite his coach encouraging him to come because they had a special co-coach today. He knew who it was, and the thought of seeing him made him feel even worse.

He managed to ignore Santana, which wasn’t hard now that she had some new girl to hang around-- Brittany, was it?

He even evaded Sam later in the evening, who had asked him if he was coming to the bonfire that night. Dave had completely forgotten about it, and fell back on his sick excuse. Sam left him alone without asking more questions.

Dave instead spent the night as a hermit. He had tried to do homework, and play video games, but couldn’t focus enough to get anywhere. Instead, he resorted to lying with his headphones on full blast in an attempt to drown out his thoughts. That ended quickly as his pent up frustration with himself combined with his endless memories of his morning became a night with a hand around his cock, a mess on his sheets, and an even guiltier conscience. 

He didn’t sleep well that night, if he even slept at all.

* * *

They had a home game that week.

They lost.

* * *

The weekend rolled through without any conflict. Santana had been busy with her girl, and any texts she’d sent him had been tersely replied to.

After skipping class on Monday, however, his luck ran out.

It was a stupid decision in any case; normally, he’d own up to his mistake, and move on. But this one hung heavy, and the guilt was enough to keep him from doing the mature thing and just apologizing, and hopefully letting it go without any more issues. He was stupid, and hormonal, and tense. That was it. His professor was just an unfortunate factor in it.

An hour after class normally ended, there was a hard, furious knocking at his door.

_“David James Karofsky, so help me, if you do not open this door I will personally break it down and kick your ass into next semester, where you won’t even make it to if you skip another class for whatever crappy reason you try to lie to me about!”_

Dave jumped up from his desk and headed towards the door, throwing it open before Santana busted a hole through it. As he did, she barged past him, a concerned couple passing down the hall behind her as she did. Dave barely gave them a glance before shutting the door behind her.

Before he had a chance to speak, Santana held up her finger to him. “Don’t even think about it, Goliath,” she hissed, stepping close to him. “Is there a reason your pretty boy professor practically chased me across campus today, asking me if you were okay? Are you being followed by some gay mafia that he’s warned you about, telling you that if you didn’t hole up in your cheeto-dust covered dorm room for the rest of your life, that they would come in and tie you down to pluck your obviously already manicured eyebrows into nothing, just before having some non consensual, disgustingly sweat-heavy, grunting man-sex with you?”

Dave stared down at her, her words setting in his mind one by one. “What?” was all he could manage, his head cocked in confusion.

The girl rolled her eyes, and glared up at him. “Honestly, Dave? I don’t know! Why the hell have you been avoiding literally everyone, and why does the elf prince himself care enough about you not coming to class for one day?”

Dave shook his head, staring at her blankly. She looked up at him for a few moments before her eyes grew large, her jaw nearly dropping to the floor.

“You actually fucked him!”

Letting out a yelp, Dave quickly grabbed her arm, moving around to pull her away from the door. “No!” he snapped, Santana pulling her wrist from his grasp. “I didn’t. Could you be a little louder next time?”

Santana burst into a fit of laughter, causing Dave to be the closest he’s been to smacking someone in a very long time. After a moment, she looked back at up at, her eyes wide in amusement.

“Yeah right, Karofsky,” she sneered, then lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Was he everything you dreamed?”

Dave snarled, his fists clenched at his sides. “I didn’t have sex with him!” he growled, the vein in his jaw twitching in stress. He looked over his shoulder, as if at any moment someone would burst through the door. Facing back, Santana continued to smirk back up at him, though patiently waiting for him to explain himself.

“I kissed him, okay?” he confessed, leading to another laugh from Santana. He shushed her, and ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it worriedly. “I fucked up. I just wanted to talk to him, but I was so overwhelmed because his brother was there--”

“You kissed him in front of his brother?!”

Dave rolled his eyes. “He left. And then I didn’t know what to say or where to start, and I just… kissed him.” He moved towards his bed, and sat down with a heavy thump. Santana stayed where she was, her arms crossed across her midriff. Running his hands over his face, he kept his head low, feeling all of his worries pile heavy on his shoulders once more.

They sat in silence for a minute, his breathing heavy. Eventually, his friend clicked her tongue, and Dave watched as her feet approached his, hesitated, and then moved back towards the door. 

“You fucked up, Bear. But he wanted me to tell you he’s here until six, so go fix it before you’re kicked out of school and I’m left alone with the rest of the idiots here,” she demanded, and he heard the door click open. “I’ve got a date with Brittany, but don’t think I won’t come back to beat your ass tonight if you haven’t moved.”

As his dorm room door was pulled to a close, Dave looked up, his eyes focusing on a point on the wall opposite. He sat there for a few moments until his focus was dropped and his vision blurred slightly, then pushed himself off his bed, reaching over to his dresser to grab his keys.

* * *

By the time Dave was across campus, the sun was already setting, meaning his professor would still be in his office for the next forty or so minutes. He jingled his keys from where they rest in his jacket pocket, and his heavy, nervous breathing came out in puffs of steam in the rapidly dropping air temperature.

Hurriedly, he made it into the humanities building, immediately hit with the warmth of the building’s heater. There was a class exiting down the opposite hall from where he was headed, so he quickly rounded the corner, wanting to avoid anyone in the chance of him convincing himself to let this wait until next week.

As Dave approached the classroom door, his heart rate quickened, and he gave one last deep breath before pulling it open, and stepping inside before he could change his mind.

Once inside, Dave was quick to notice that the room was empty, which could only mean that his teacher would be in his office, just behind his front desk and boards. He walked across the room, his shoes tapping lightly on the floor, causing his breath to hitch yet again as he neared the door. In his last few steps, his pace slowed, and he straightened his back before stepping in line with the door frame. Just inside, his teacher sat at his desk, a hand on his forehead as the other worked on grading a small pile of papers, all of which were neatly organized.

Dave cleared his throat as he knocked on the edge of the wall, which caused his professor to lift his head, and a look of genuine surprise crossed his face. Dave flinched at that, wondering if the man figured he would rather have dropped the class.

Mr. Hummel visibly swallowed, and stood up, his fingers resting lightly on the top of his desk.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Dave spoke first, already knowing the answer. His elder nodded slowly, and moved out from behind the desk. Dave was shocked to see that he looked just as nervous as he felt. His teacher gestured to a small sofa to his right, and Dave didn’t hesitate to sit down, eager to have anything to focus on.

Mr. Hummel sat beside him, and clasped his hands together on his lap. Dave focused on the carpet. They sat for a moment until Dave could hear his professor swallow again. 

“First of all,” the man started, sounding calmer than Dave had anticipated, This caught him off guard, and he tore his eyes away from the floor, daring to look the other in the eyes. His professor’s face was blank, though his eyes gave away the nerves he had begun to push past. “I’m not angry with you. I would just like to make that clear.”

Dave nodded.

“But,” his professor continued, his head bobbing slightly. “What happened was inappropriate. And I know you know that, which is why you missed the lecture today.”

Picking at the fabric around his thighs, Dave could feel the edge slowly withering away. Hearing his teacher speak firmly had some comfort to it, his light voice reminding him that this was the same adult who he trusted just last week. He let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

Mr. Hummel carried on after a moment, studying Dave carefully. “I’m flattered that you trust me, David,” he added, and his hand twitched as if he were about to rest it on Dave’s arm, but decided against it. “Truly. And I know you are going through a lot of different emotions, so I will not hold this against you. Sometimes things boil over, and you can’t refrain from doing something you shouldn’t, or even something you don’t necessarily want to do.”

The last few words hung in the air awkwardly. Dave decided not to address it, eager to move past it.

His professor looked at him, as if he was expecting Dave to speak next. Dave’s mind, however, was the emptiest it had been in days, so instead, Dave licked his lips nervously. He froze instantly after, Mr. Hummel’s eyes having quickly darting towards his mouth again before locking to his gaze once more. Dave stared at him, thoughts quietly building up in the back of his mind. There was no way he kept imagining it, right? It had happened once before, when he’d bit his lip.

Dave wasn’t sure what to say, but held his teacher’s gaze all the same. In fact, he couldn’t draw himself to tear his eyes away, and clearly, neither could his professor. The heater hummed softly, and was the only noise in the room other than their light breathing.

Feeling his skin begin to heat under the elder’s stare, Dave studied the other man, still grasping for some sort of response. Curiously, his tick influenced him to lick his lips again, which sure enough, the other’s eyes followed. Dave’s breathing stopped completely, and then the other man was leaning forward, closing the small gap between them.

Instinctively, Dave’s hand raised to cup the other’s cheek, though quickly shifted to just behind his ear, his fingers gingerly running through his professor’s short hair. Mr. Hummel made a small noise, and his hands raised to Dave’s face, pulling him and his lips closer.

All of Dave’s warning signals blared in his head, but for whatever reason, all of his other emotions were overriding them. His free hand reached out, resting on the man’s hip in an attempt to guide him closer. His teacher pulled his lips away slightly, still grazing on Dave’s own. For a moment, Dave was sure he was about to be pushed away, but instead they returned, more eager than before.

Dave mouth fell open at the shock of the man’s aggressive return, which the other took as an invitation to slip his tongue in. A shock of adrenaline was sent through Dave’s body, and he felt the heat from his face began to work it’s way downwards. Letting out a muffled moan, Dave slipped his tongue alongside the one currently pushing into his mouth. 

His moan seemed to draw his professor in further, and soon his jacket collar was being tugged on, driving Dave even closer. Dave let his hand grip around the other’s waist, which led to a rather frantic scramble as the man slipped into his lap, his legs straddling Dave’s on either side. 

Within moments, his teacher had dropped his hands to Dave’s shoulders in an attempt to push his jacket away. Catching the drift, Dave removed his hands from the other long enough to lean forward slightly, shrugging off the material and letting it fall to the side of them. The older man held the kiss through it, but as Dave discarded the jacket, he pulled away. Dave opened his eyes to see the other staring at him hungrily, his cheeks completely flushed and his pupils blown. He could feel his own pants beginning to strain as the other man’s hardness was pressing into his thigh.

With what could only be described as a whimper, his teacher leaned forward to kiss Dave again, this time driving his hips with him, rolling against Dave’s crotch. A shock of arousal jolted through Dave’s spine, both of his hands moving to slip down the man’s ass, and pressed into him further, eliciting another moan. His professor pulled his mouth away, this time to slip downwards, along the corner of Dave’s mouth and down his jaw.

“Kurt,” the man said suddenly, now working his way down Dave’s neck. Dave naturally tilted his head to the side, yet his face scrunched in confusion, his hips stilling from where they’d been grinding up into the other. 

His professor must have noticed Dave’s hesitation, and let out a breath against his neck, causing Dave to shiver. “My name is Kurt,” he whispered, placing another soft kiss on Dave’s exposed skin. 

Dave let out a hum of understanding, though the implication sent another shiver through his body. He wanted him to use it. The reality of the situation finally settled fully, though instead of fear, Dave could only feel pure and utter desire, and an enticing sense of danger. Pulling the man closer, Dave rolled his hips up once more, and leaned forward to press his neck against the other’s mouth. 

“Kurt…” he hummed, testing the word on his tongue. 

It was an instant reaction, and Mr. H-- Kurt let out a groan of approval, and tugged on Dave’s shirt. Dave smirked, unseen to the other as he continued his work under his jaw. He said it again, earning another approval, and a nip at the skin of his neck. Then again, and hands ran across his chest. Again, and their hips began a steady pace.

The second to last time he said it that night, there was no turning back, and the two of them knew it well.

And that was exhilarating.


End file.
